The weary yeare his race now having run …
[Now] shall the new yeares joy forth freshly send,
Into the gloom[y] world his gladsome ray:
And all these stormes which now his beauty blend
Shall turne to caulmes and tymely cleare away.
So likewise [may] love cheare you your heavy [spirit],
And chaunge old yeares annoy[ance] to new delight.
 
Amoretti LXII: “The weary yeare his race now having run”
Edmund Spenser